


Getting Away With Murder

by ADashOfTenEleven



Category: Sherlock - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Dark, M/M, Rape, Some Fluff, Torture, character pain, extreme violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-19
Updated: 2017-04-19
Packaged: 2018-10-21 01:50:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10675206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ADashOfTenEleven/pseuds/ADashOfTenEleven
Summary: Two months after Sherlock returns from the dead, so does someone else.And he's not happy about Sherlock being alive.His little game, the Final Problem, won't be over until the three people closest to the consulting Detective are dead.Contains Mystrade and JohnLock.





	Getting Away With Murder

**Author's Note:**

> My first dark fic... let's see how this goes.

Sherlock paced the floor of his flat in clear agitation, gun in one hand. His mind was spinning; ten thousand different thoughts coming in and out of his head, each replaced with a more terrifying scenario. 

"Brother?"

Twisting around jerkily, he aimed the gun at the intruder before logic sunk in again, and he lowered the weapon with a frown. 

"Mycroft. You took your time."

"You texted me two minutes ago, Sherlock, and even I haven't developed teleportation yet."

Shaking his head at the small talk, the younger Holmes brother began pacing again. "John's gone." He said aloud, his fingers twitching around the weapon in his hand.

"Gone whe-"

"And so is Mrs. Hudson." Sherlock continued, cutting off his brother's words.

"I don't under-"

"Where's Lestrade?" 

Sherlock knew about the DI and his brother, and while - personal reasons - made him object to the relationship at first, he slowly thawed to the idea of them both. They fit together like a puzzle, one was ying while the other was yang, and deep down, the consulting detective was happy that Mycroft had found himself a special goldfish. 

Even if said goldfish was his first.

"Gregory's not answering his phone." Mycroft said in concern, snapping Sherlock out of his thoughts. 

"So where are they?" 

xXx

John woke up first, followed by Greg. Both men had been heavily sedated, and still carried the remnants of being tossed carelessly to the ground. The army doctor's face was scratched, whilst the DI supported a black eye. 

"Where are we?" John asked quietly, studying the blank walls with an anxious expression. 

"I have no idea." Greg replied, his eyes on something - or rather - someone else. "Is that Mrs. Hudson?"

"Shit. It is." 

Rushing over, John crouched down beside the third occupant, immediately noticing more scratches and bruising on her skin. Unlike the other two, she still hadn't stirred yet, her body curled into the fetal position. 

xXx

A TV suddenly blared to life in 221B, the screen broadcasting a room with painfully white walls. Inside were three people; two moving and one not. 

Sherlock groaned, recognising John straight away. Mycroft wasn't far behind though, his eyes on Greg's bruised body. 

"Who?" He asked through clenched teeth.

"Hello boys! I bet you thought you saw the last of me." A sing-song voice floated through the TV screen, causing both the army doctor and the DI to freeze, eyes widening as they stared at each other in horror. 

"But what can I say? I'm sooooo changeable."

Moriarty. 

"I'm going to kill him." Sherlock growled, his eyes fixated on the screen. 

"Get in line, brother." Mycroft hissed, his phone out and already against his ear. 

"You're probably wondering why you're here, am I right?" Moriarty's voice was just as obnoxious as ever, and it made Greg's stomach twist. John was still tending to Mrs. Hudson, who remained unconscious, but he too felt nauseous. 

"No? Well I'm going to tell you anyway. See, it begins and ends with Sherlock." 

John stiffened.

"He was meant to be dead. And yet... he's not. Why is that, Johnny-Boy?"

"Fuck off." The army doctor snapped, his eyes darting around the room.

"Oh, fucking will come into it later on, don't you worry about that. I just want to have a little fun with you all before I kill you." 

"Aren't you meant to be dead?" Greg called out, his gaze switching between John and Mrs Hudson to the ceiling. "I saw your body... your lifeless body."

"Didn't Sherlock tell you, little DI? That was all a game. Just like this is."

"I don't find this funny." Lestrade growled, moving over to the door and kicking it. 

"Hm. Do you think John finds it funny that you took darling Sherlock's v-card?" Moriarty gasped mockingly, a cruel smile detected in his voice when he spoke again. "What about the Ice Man himself? That little bombshell has to break his heart a bit, what do you reckon?"

Greg blanched, turning towards John with a small shake of his head. "I..."

"Is it true?" Mycroft asked Sherlock lightly, though his jaw was clenched. 

Neither brother had taken their eyes off the TV since it came to life, both of them transfixed. 

"Uh... it was a long time ago." 

"So it's true?" 

"It was a one off, brother. Before you and him."

"He slept with you?"

".... Yes."


End file.
